


Overture

by Leyenn



Series: Dreams of Honest Horn [5]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Imzadi, Reconciliation, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: Post-Code of Honor. Deanna's not always quite as composed as she makes out to be, even if only Will can see it, and some things just can't be avoided no matter how hard they both try.





	Overture

They've been at Styrus Three for three days when he realises what the dull and constant headache living at the base of his skull actually is.

If the _Enterprise_ were alone in orbit, taking the full brunt of such a desperate and harrowing mission, he thinks he might have noticed earlier. As it is, the three medical ships already in orbit, along with the planetary medical corps, have things about as in hand as anyone could: the _Enterprise_ is limited in what they can do, not being a ship designed or equipped for full pandemic response. Their focus is only on distribution of the vaccine supply they've brought from Ligon, although Beverly and her staff are working triple shifts to help out the _Galen,_ _Blackwell_ and _Stern_ , and Picard has made it quietly known that no one is to be stupid enough to try getting in her way.      

Or maybe, he thinks, stealing a glance across the conference table as Beverly runs them through today's work - maybe if he were that much busier he wouldn't have noticed at all, or he'd have chalked it up to the same exhaustion he sees in Beverly's eyes and not thought more of it.

After all, outward control has always been a particular skill that Deanna excels at.

 

*

 

She hasn't noticed him stealing glances at her all morning, which is practically confirmation that she's suffering. If anything, Deanna seems to be able to feel his eyes on her now even better than she used to. He wonders if it's because she's honed her empathy over the years, or just because he shows up brighter when she's not surrounded by other familiar minds.

He remembers that he used to be able to find her mind, too, and spends the last twenty minutes of his bridge shift trying to recall how to narrow down that sense of her into something tight enough to pinpoint on his mental map of the ship, but it just won't quite come.

In the end he gives up and lets the computer find her for him. At least it can tell him for certain that she's alone.

She's sitting quietly on her office couch when he walks in - the door slides open without needing to ask, and he takes that as a good sign. She does at least notice that he's in the room, too, looking up from the PADD in her hand as the door closes again behind him.

"Will?"

"Deanna." He takes a deep breath. "We need to talk."

They don't have to be joined at the brain stem for him to sense how she tenses up. A different, deeper ache wells up like tears in the back of his throat and it's like a tangible wall going up between them as she looks away. "Not now, Will."

"Not about that." He tries to project reassurance, something comforting, as he moves to sit with her. He can see the stiffness in her shoulders as he leans toward her, resting elbows on his knees.

"You never used to hide from me," he says, softer.

Her gaze flicks toward him for just a split second before she hides it in her PADD again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He pushes, gently. "You never used to pretend that was true, either."

Her voice tightens. "Well, a lot of things are different now."

"And a lot of things are the same." He reaches out a hand to touch her wrist. "My head hurts. It's been hurting for three days."

She moves her hand away, reaching for a second PADD. "You should see Doctor Crusher."

"Doctor Crusher has her hands full." Damn it, she's so self-reliant he wants to shake her. She's hurting and he wants to help and even though he knows he still deserves it - would have deserved it if she'd chosen not to even look at him off-duty even now - he's managed to forget how damn _frustrating_ it is when she shuts him out.

Deanna does look at him then, and the look in her eyes is sharp enough to draw blood. "You came in here, Will. You can leave just as easily."

But he can't, and not only because he'd really like his head to stop aching.

Instead he stands up again and walks over to her replicator, and dials up what he hopes will be his Trojan horse to slip inside her stubborn defences. He puts the mug - rich scented, dark and steaming - down on the table beside her PADD, and quietly sits back down beside her. Deanna looks up.

"What's this?"

He smiles and tries to make it a little playful. "Don't tell me you don't drink hot chocolate any more. That's more change than I can take."

At least that earns him a flicker of a smile, even though she tries to fight it back. "Will. Really. I'm fine." 

"Just try it."

She sighs, leaning back in exasperation. "Will…"

"Please," he says, and feels her flash of surprise.

She looks at him a little suspiciously, but she does take the mug in both hands and she might be able to fool everyone else that she's fine, but he can see the way she inhales a long, comforting breath even before she takes a sip.

"Mmmm…" The surprise reaches her eyes as she looks at him, and her fingers shift almost protectively around the mug. "Will, this is amazing."

He grins at the sudden enthusiasm in her tone. "Galastran liquid chocolate. I picked up the recipe last year."

She rests the mug on her knee. "Don't tell me you _do_ like hot chocolate now?"

He's nervous of being this honest, but he can't lie to her. "I'd order it up sometimes. When I wanted to… When I was thinking of you."

She shies away a little, just the way he expects; puts the mug down and goes to stand up. "Will, I can't talk about this now-"

"I know." He reaches out and gently grips her wrist before she can walk away. "I know," and he hopes she can read that he doesn't just mean knowing she isn't ready, but that if she were, in orbit around a planet of millions in the grip of a deadly plague is not the time to push her.

"Let me help," he says, quiet and intent and insistent. He can feel the tension in the cords of her wrist under his hand, ready to pull away, but then she looks into his eyes.

She sits down slowly beside him, as if she's suddenly going to fall if she doesn't. She's hardly in his arms before she's in his head and it's a storm breaking, the way the pressure that's been throbbing under his skull suddenly lifts and there's just Deanna again for the first time in days.

He puts his arm around her, gathering her close. She's not just _there_ , the way he's so quickly become used to again - it's like she's curling into his mind as much as she does against his body, and it's instinctive to try and draw her in that way, too, the way he tried at Farpoint, but he's still so out of practice…

Deanna pulls in a long, deep, cleansing breath and takes his hand, and there's a soft touch inside his head as if she's put her finger to his lips.

He stops trying, and oddly that seems to make it easier. Maybe that's the trick he's forgotten.

He squeezes her hand. "Are you – is that helping?"

Deanna squeezes back. _Yes._ She takes another slow breath in and out. _Can I…?_

He can feel the outline of what she wants, what she needs - the sanctuary of his mind, so familiar and loving and loved, even for just a little while, just to escape the weight of all those people and all that pain long enough to keep her going for another day. He can feel it even if she can't give him words and he doesn't remember how to make it happen for her. He kisses her forehead, leans close enough that his lips brush her skin when he speaks.

"Why do you think I came down here?" 

Deanna smiles inside his mind, and -

It is, exactly, like having her lean back into his chest, take his hands in hers, and wrap his arms around herself. She's still curled against his shoulder but she's right there against his heart too, warm and bright and unfolding against him as she relaxes, slowly, like one of the softly chiming flowers unique to her homeworld.

His breath catches. He may not remember how, but he remembers _this_ : bright molten gold filling his head and rich violet-blue sparks behind his eyes; the feeling of silk, soft and light and strong, and the cool taste of violets on the back of his tongue. There's an intent to her presence inside him this time that makes it even more intense than those first days aboard, when it was almost overwhelming after so long but still unfocused, both of them trying to rein in the force of that sudden reconnection. This is both deeper and more delicate, especially when Deanna shudders and finally lets go with a sigh that he can feel in his bones. There in the tangle of their minds is all the pain and fear and exhaustion of an entire planet that's been leaking through even her tightest shields for days, open and honest to let him see it - but there's her gratitude and apology, too, and he just focuses on that, on her, pushing everything else away.

_Will…_

She doesn't have to put words to it. _Whenever you need._ As if he would, as if he _could_ offer this much only once and then turn her away. It might not be something he imagined doing ever again, might be the exact opposite of uncomplicating things between them, but he's damned if he'll let her suffer when he can do something about it.

Relief, pure and weightless, blossoms through his mind. Deanna puts her hand over his heart, he clears his mind of anything but breathing along with her, and everything else mercifully falls away.

He can't tell how long they stay like that. Time was always a fluid thing when they were like this, so entangled and hidden from the rest of the galaxy in this private place they can make between them. Here he knows she's been doing everything she can to keep her mind clear and protected since before they even arrived in orbit; here, he knows her frustration that she can't keep all of that planetwide pain and terror out by herself.

Here, Deanna knows just as clearly his amazement that she can even try; knows he's in awe of her strength even if she's feeling almost fragile enough to break.

Here, everything is open between them and they realise it together, that he honestly didn't want to put this on her now and he'd try to push it away but everything they both feel is right here, so present that they don't have to talk, and maybe this was only ever going to be how they bleed this wound dry.

Because here, he can feel how much she hurt after he left and she couldn't have this, how it almost broke her apart, except for the hope that they _would_ make it work, that she only had a year at the Academy to get through and they'd be together, and every time they spoke it kept her together just a little longer…

And then he didn't come to meet her.

She can't hide the memory: of the suite he never saw, bright Risian sunlight through tall windows and a week that should have been full of such joy that was just _pain/loneliness/anger_ , Deanna curled up and crying her broken heart out on the bed they should have shared.

It feels like someone's stabbed him in the chest, it hurts so much - even more because he remembers, too, the few times they spoke after that and how he never knew, how she still tried to be understanding when he'd ripped her heart out and broken everything and she didn't want him to know because she wanted to handle it herself, to be strong and spare _him_ the pain she was feeling.

She's always been so much stronger than he can ever hope to be.

He almost can't stand that she really does understand why he did that to her: that it's the fear of _this_ that ruled him because the only time he's not afraid of how powerful these feelings are, is when she's with him. That she knows it hurt him to run away, too, and that only made the fear worse - to know he's so dependent on just the fact of her existence, that she's changed something at the very core of him, changed his life completely, and what would he do if anything ever happened to her -

Deanna doesn't have to say, here, that she knows exactly how that feels. That she forgives him not just because she can feel his pain, not just because she understands or because she loves him but because that fear is hers as well. That she still remembers that day on her mother's doorstep, after Jalara, and being so afraid of what they could be and how that would change her life that she just couldn't take that step closer, even though every part of her _ached_ for the very thing that frightened her so much.

It's not simply that they're even, now; it's even simpler than that. They just want and need and fear the same thing, and there's no one else who will ever quite understand the push and pull of that except each other.

Will can't stop being sorry for hurting her: Deanna can't not forgive him all of it. They both love just as deep and strong and all-encompassing as they ever did; both miss, terribly, what they had, and wish it hadn't ended; yet neither of them would change the years they've had apart and it doesn't matter that they can't have it both ways.

 _Rabeém_ is the word that forms in his thoughts, in true Cyndri with the accent of all Deanna's love and empathy and acceptance behind it. _I understand,_ but so much more than the crude Standard that would never have been enough to get them through this.

 _Imzadi,_ he thinks, with as much emotional weight as he can give it because that's the only reply there is - that he loves her and he'd do anything to have never caused her pain like that, that he's incredulous and thankful and so relieved that somehow there's still a path for them to take together, even if they'll have to feel their way all over again.

He opens his eyes as Deanna opens hers, still so entwined together that he can almost see double. She looks up at him and there are tears rolling down her face, a sight that twists the knife in his heart. He lifts a hand to her cheek to wipe them away and her own hand gets in the way, reaching for him at the same time. Deanna smiles with tear-wet lips and strokes her thumb across his cheekbone and he realises he's crying, too. He turns his face into her hand.

 _Imzadi._ It seems like all he can think.

 _It's okay to feel the pain,_ Deanna thinks tenderly, and he's so glad she doesn't speak out loud, that the words might be Standard but the accent is all Cyndri. _Don't pretend you don't._

He could never lie to her, but this is beyond even that, this is not being able to lie to himself. _I have no right to feel like that._

 _Yes, you do. It hurt so much to lose you, I'm not going to hide from that, but you didn't do it to hurt me. It's okay to have made a mistake,_ and the word is shaped so that he knows she means how and why he did it but maybe not the act itself, because she can't regret the time she's had to grow into herself without him, and even though it was agony to begin with he still gave her that.

He takes her face in his hands, then, and even if it's pointless when they're both still crying, he can't help gently wiping the tears away before kissing her.

It's not a rekindling; not passionate or sexual or asking for anything, just soft and full of emotion, and Deanna returns it completely in kind. It's the best kiss he's ever had.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs against her mouth, in a thick voice, and he's truly never meant anything he's said to her more, except _I love you._

Deanna smiles and strokes his cheek. "Maybe not. But you're stuck with me anyway."

He smiles and pulls her close again, holding her tight against him and pressing his face into her hair. "And I meant it. Whenever you need to, you can come to me, okay?"

It's not _I won't leave you again,_ because they both know that may not be true; but it is _you're stuck with me, too,_ and he can tell she feels that. Deanna rests her hand over his heart and burrows back into his mind, and there's a smile in her voice inside his head. 

_I know. Thank you._

 

*

 

The last of the vaccine takes a week to distribute. Their new orders come in less than twenty-four hours later, and as much as it's been cathartic, Will can't say he's not relieved to be leaving the Styrus system behind. Relieved, too, that fatality rates have already dropped through the floor and the _Blackwell_ is already on its way back from Ligon with a second vaccine shipment, so he can choose to be thankful they're able to go, and not just guilty that he wants Deanna away from it all.

He's fairly sure no one else has noticed at all, either how being here has affected her or just how well she's handled it. It doesn't surprise him. Deanna's strength is something they should all envy and he's privileged beyond measure to see beneath it, sitting with her in the dark of her quarters as they warp out of orbit and she finally breathes out.

 

**


End file.
